


I Will Fuck You The Same

by bloodnuns, frikey



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Background Gerard/Ray, Blood, Established Relationship, M/M, No Rape Though, Non-Consensual Touching, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodnuns/pseuds/bloodnuns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/frikey/pseuds/frikey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Frank and Mikey get lost in downtown Chicago, an argument ensues, and their night only gets worse from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Fuck You The Same

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to one of my best friends and muse, Nick, who helped me develop and better this idea, and took on the burden of co-writing it with me (and dealing with my annoying outbursts of panic when something wasn't working out how I wanted it to). Work title comes from Leviathan by LeATHERMØUTH. Enjoy. xo

Groceries. Their one and only job was to get groceries from the store they’d passed on the way in, the store that was less than a mile away from where they were staying. It seemed simple, really. They had a short list: chick peas, tomato sauce, curry paste, brown sugar, and coconut milk.

Maybe it would have been simple if the store was a straight shot down the street, eight blocks to walk in one direction. But that wasn’t the case—getting to the store involved taking a right here and a left there, and they’d obviously taken the wrong right or the wrong left somewhere along the way, because now they were fucking lost. Lost, exhausted, and spitting angry words at each other on the streets of downtown Chicago.

“For fuck’s sake, Frank, it’s not this way either,” Mikey complained, looking down and rubbing the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk, “Let’s just turn around and try to find our way back. Then we can take a cab to the store.”

“I’m not turning around. I know where I’m going,” Frank snapped.

“Obviously, you fucking don’t. We’ve been wandering around for a good thirty minutes now and we’re not even close to finding this goddamn grocery store. Besides, it’s gonna get dark soon, and I’m fucking starving.”

“Shut up, Mikey, okay? Stop whining. I know where the fuck I’m going,” Frank repeated, and Mikey crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. He was not _whining_ , and he sure as hell was not walking one more step in the wrong direction just to appease Frank.

“Fine, Frank—since you know where you’re going, then you can go to the store by yourself and I’ll wait right here for you to come back,” Mikey said as he plopped down on the sidewalk, adding under his breath, “Which will probably be sooner rather than later, since you actually have no fucking clue where we are.”

“Fine!” Frank snapped, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in mock defeat before turning away, “You just wait right fucking there, you little shit.”

Mikey raised his eyebrow at Frank’s back and huffed out an annoyed breath. He did not take kindly to being called names, not to mention the fact that he was exhausted and highly irritable.

This was the first day they’d had off in weeks, and it just so happened to fall into the week that Gerard and Ray were staying in Chicago, too. All he wanted to do was eat dinner with his brother and his best friend, get a good night’s sleep, and maybe, maybe have sex that wasn’t rushed and confined to a bunk before they had to hop back on LeATHERMØUTH’s tour bus and go back to living in cramped, smelly quarters.

“I’m so fucking sick of your attitude,” Mikey muttered, not really caring if Frank heard him or not. He got up off the sidewalk and turned his back to Frank, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest as he started to walk away. Fuck this.

When Frank heard his boyfriend’s voice again, he turned around and watched as Mikey pulled himself up and started off in the other direction. Something sharp twanged inside his chest, something reeking of regret, guilt, and maybe a little fear.

“Mikey! Mikey, wait!” Frank yelled, darting after his boyfriend and catching up to him fairly easily, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t want your fucking apologies, Frank,” Mikey said coldly. Frank tried to reach out and put his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, but Mikey shrugged him off, much to Frank’s chagrin.

“Baby, don’t be like this. Please don’t be like this. I don’t want you wandering around out here alone. Just—just come with me, we’ll find the store, I promise.”

“I’m not fucking coming with you! You have no idea where you’re going and I want to go spend some time with my goddamn brother, alright? Forgive me if I’m not exactly keen on the idea of being lost in Chicago with you.” Mikey yelled, shoving away from another one of Frank’s touches, “And don’t fucking ‘baby’ me. I’m a little shit, remember?”

Frank took a deep breath through his nose, praying that Mikey didn’t notice, and willed his voice to remain even when he spoke again. Showing how high his level of irritation was would do nothing to help the situation.

“Mikey, c’mon. I didn’t mean that, sweetheart, you know I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Just leave me alone. Go find the store. Worry about your fragile sense of pride and undying need to prove me wrong. I don’t need your protection—I was born and raised in Jersey too, in case you’ve forgotten.” Mikey said brusquely, picking up the pace and showing Frank that he meant what he said: he wanted to be left alone.

“Fine. Fuck you too, Mikeyway,” Frank snarled. He turned away and headed back in the other direction, leaving Mikey to his own devices.

Mikey let his shoulders slump once Frank walked away. It’d been all of thirty seconds since Frank’s words had sunk in and he was already feeling pretty shitty about the fight, but he wasn’t going to chase Frank down and tell him that. He was sick and tired of Frank’s attitude and of his need to be right all the goddamn time. It was getting old and harshly wearing on his last fucking nerve.

* * *

Mikey started to panic when the sun sank behind the buildings. He’d been nervous ever since he’d walked away from Frank, jittery and worked up from their fight, but coursing through his veins now was a deep, unbridled panic. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans, his arms pressed close to his body in an attempt to ward off the impending chill, and he’d chewed a spot on his lip bloody with worry. He’d been walking around on his own for close to an hour now, and he still had no idea where the fuck he was. His feet were aching, he was tired, and to top things off, his phone was dead—he hadn’t bothered to charge it before they left because they weren’t supposed to be gone that long.

As Mikey rounded a corner and furrowed his brow at yet another set of unfamiliar surroundings, he wondered if Frank was worrying about him. Probably not. Frank could really hold a grudge when he got upset, and there was no reason to be worried about Mikey, not really, so Frank was probably still mad. Fuming, even, thinking that Mikey had chosen not to come back just to try and _make_ Frank worry.

Mikey also wondered, briefly, if Frank was still lost. That was a good possibility, too.

God, they were so fucked.

“Are you lost?” A voice sounded in Mikey’s ear, and he let out a tiny yelp of surprise. He stopped walking to spin around and look for the source, and found it in a man that was leaning lazily against the side of a building. Mikey was pretty sure the man hadn’t been there before, and he was hard to miss: tall, looming a few inches above Mikey, with dark hair and facial features that Mikey could only think to describe as sleazy. There was a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, and a tiny smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “You look kinda lost.”

 _Lie_ , Mikey told himself, a thick feeling of unease settling in his bones. _Just lie. Don’t tell this guy anything._

“Uh, no, not at all,” Mikey said quietly, his voice not quite carrying the amount of authority and confidence he’d hoped it would. The man’s presence was really fucking unsettling.

“Well, then what’s a pretty thing like you doing out on these streets alone?” The man asked, smirk still hard etched onto his face.

“I’m just on the way to meet my brother,” Mikey stuttered quickly, and mentally kicked himself for feeling like he’d given too much away. _End the goddamn conversation, Mikey_. “Have a good night, dude.”

“You too,” The man replied, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth and never taking his eyes off Mikey’s body.

Mikey turned away and resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself, hurrying down the street and away from the creepy stranger. He walked for another fifteen minutes before he came upon an intersection, and—

“For fuck’s sake,” Mikey muttered under his breath as he eyed the goddamn grocery store down the street. The grocery store that he’d spent the last two hours wandering around looking for. Frank was probably there, waiting for Mikey to show up, and the thought flooded Mikey with relief, despite the fact that Frank was more than likely super pissed off.

Mikey was almost across the street when he heard the loud, angry screech of a honking car horn, and when he turned to see what all the commotion was about, he found that a man had blatantly disregarded the flow of traffic in order to cross the street. Ice filled Mikey’s veins when, upon further inspection, he realized that it wasn’t just any man, it was the stranger who’d stopped him on the street earlier; he wasn’t just crossing the street, he was following Mikey. _Shit_.

 _Just get to the store_ , Mikey told himself. He wanted nothing more than to break out into a run, but he wasn’t sure if the man had noticed him looking, and he didn’t want to draw any more attention than what was already trained on him. _Just get to the store, get to the store, get to the store_ —

Thoughts of escape were stamped out like embers in a fire when Mikey felt foreign hands latch onto him. With a hand on his mouth and an arm around his neck, Mikey was dragged down an alley that he hadn’t even noticed, before he was turned around and slammed hard against a brick wall.

Mikey felt sick as his assailant pinned his hands above his head, his mouth still tightly covered. He tried to thrash and kick against the unfamiliar body, but was suddenly quieted when he felt the cold metal and leather of a gun in its holster dig into his hip.

“Oh, you feel that, do you?” The man said, hot and gross into the crook of Mikey’s neck.

Mikey shut his eyes hard and tried to keep very still, his fight or flight response fading into ‘play dead’. He swallowed back a sudden rush of bile when he felt foreign lips on his neck, the man’s mouth opening against his skin with too much tongue and teeth.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Mikey heard, and he whimpered, trying to make some kind of noise or form a sentence that resembled _let me go, please_ , but it was of no use.

Frank had walked five blocks before he finally got it through his thick fucking head that Mikey wasn’t going to come running after him. When that realization settled into stomach, he’d tried to call Mikey, but Mikey’s phone was either off or dead because he kept getting sent straight to voicemail. Frank couldn’t decide if he was worried sick or absolutely fucking irate.

Either way, he had to find Mikey, because if he went back to Gerard and Ray without him, Frank was willing to bet everything he owned that his head would be cut off and served up on a silver fucking platter.

He changed directions and walked back the way he came, easily finding where he and Mikey had parted. Frank searched in the direction he remembered Mikey walking, but after about two blocks he realized that, for one thing, he really didn’t have a fucking clue where he was, and for another, he didn’t have a fucking clue where Mikey could have navigated to.

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath, crushing the butt of the cigarette under his boot as he looked up and around at the street signs. He was going to have to call Gerard, and he was going to have his ass handed to him, and goddamn, was he so not looking forward to that.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Gerard’s cell number.

“ _Hey, you’ve reached Gerard—”_

Frank hung up, cursing the Way brothers and everything they stood for in his head as he dialed Ray’s cell. It rang twice before Ray picked up.

“Hey, dude. What’s up?”

Frank could tell that he’d interrupted something, and the harsh angle at which he rolled his eyes threatened to give him a headache.

“May I speak to the older brother of Satan incarnate, please?” Frank asked, an air of fucking-done-with-everything leaking into his voice.

Frank heard Ray hand the phone off to Gerard, and from a distance he heard Ray say something close to ‘ _uh oh’_.

“What, Frankie? The list wasn’t that long and the store isn’t that far from here. What could you possibly have fucked up?”

Frank swallowed back every shitty thing that he wanted to respond with, trying to tell himself that Gerard didn’t know what was going on and wouldn’t be saying shit like that if he did. Frank, better that anyone, knew that the Way brothers had a precise talent for making you feel even shittier in already shitty situations, especially if it was your own fault.

He let out a heavy sigh before he tried to explain anything.

“Mikey and I got into a fight. He went off by himself some forty-five minutes ago. I can’t find him and his phone is off and I’m fucking lost.”

Frank could practically hear Gerard shaking his head at him through the phone.

“Well, good fucking job,” Gerard replied finally.

“Look, jackass—” Frank started, anger welling up in his chest.

“Where are you?” Gerard cut him off and that was probably a good thing, considering that what Frank was about say would have squashed all chances of Gerard helping him.

“The corner of 4th and east Lincoln, apparently.”

“Ray and I will be there in ten minutes. You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Gerard said definitively, hanging up before Frank had time to say anything else.

“Fuck you,” Frank spat, looking down at the phone in his hand.

True to his word, ten minutes later Gerard and Ray showed up in a cab.

Gerard slid out of the passenger side and onto the sidewalk, shortly followed by Ray, who was shoving his wallet back in his pants pocket.

Frank stood still, making eye contact with Gerard and instantly feeling himself shrink in his skin. Gerard was pissed, and Frank could see it all over his sharp features.

The two of them made their way towards Frank; Gerard’s arms were folded across his chest much like Mikey’s had been earlier, and Ray looked like he was just trying to keep up even though his legs were longer than Gerard’s by quite a bit. Fuck. Frank knew he was in for it.

“I can’t believe you fucking lost him,” Gerard said, shouldering past him into the crosswalk. Ray gave him an apologetic look but didn’t say anything, knowing that he’d have to fight with Gerard later if he opened his mouth right then.

Frank didn’t reply. He had known that Gerard would be angry—fighting him right now would only make things worse.

For the next ten minutes Frank followed Gerard and Ray silently, only piping up every couple of minutes to call to Mikey, praying that he’d answer. He felt guilt, anxiety, and fear twist in his stomach every time he didn’t hear a reply.

The trio rounded a corner and Frank was assaulted by the neon sign of the grocery store that Gerard had talked about, and suddenly he felt that much dumber. The directions, as it turned out, were much easier than both he and Mikey had tried to make them. Frank tried not to break out into a run as he realized that Mikey was probably in the store waiting for him.

Ray and Gerard were talking amongst themselves, a full ten feet in front of him, when the three of them passed an alleyway on their right. They didn’t hear the distinct sound of metal on metal that belt buckles make as they’re being roughly jostled. Without thinking about it, he turned his head to glance at the source of the noise, his eyes falling on the silhouette of two men some thirty feet from him.

Frank realized three things in quick succession:

The first was that the two people down the alley were in the beginning stages of getting it on, and Frank was mildly disgusted.

The second, upon further inspection, was that the one pressed up against the wall seemed to be restrained, with a hand over his mouth.

The third, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, was that the one pressed up against the wall was Mikey. His face was contorted, pain and fear painted across it as plainly as if someone had dumped a bucket of firetruck red lacquer onto a stark white canvas.

Gerard and Ray whipped their heads around as they heard Frank’s heavy footfalls bolting off down the alley, and Frank heard Ray’s cut off, “What is Frank—?”

As Frank rushed towards _whoever_ _the_ _fuck_ was touching his boyfriend, he leaned into his run and ducked his head. Everything in his line of vision was a blur and he was goddamn determined to fuck this guy’s life up.

He felt his shoulder connect with ribs, and the weight of both of them was thrown horribly off balance as Mikey was freed and the three of them tumbled to the ground, Frank’s face meeting asphalt. He felt his lip split open, his taste buds assaulted by the awful copper of blood that flooded his mouth.

“What the fuck?!” The guy said, coughing and holding one side of his ribs. Mikey had started to pick himself up, but Frank was faster than both of them. He leapt up from the ground where he had landed and was on top of Fuckface in an instant.

Just before he blacked out, Frank heard Mikey scream, “Frank, no!”

Gerard and Ray had started down the alley after Frank just as the three of them had hit the ground. Gerard slowed his pace as his facial expression mutated into one of horror, the full realization of what was happening hitting him hard in the chest.

Mikey scrambled to his feet, lunging at Frank’s arms and trying to pull him away from the guy he was on top of, but he wasn’t strong enough. Frank swung downward with all the force he seemed to have, again and again, making Mikey flinch each time he heard skin covered knuckle connect with skin covered facial bones. Mikey could swear that more than once he heard bones crack, and he was sickened when he realized that he couldn’t tell whose bones were doing the cracking.

Ray hadn’t stopped running towards Frank. He’d been around Frank like this enough times for his instincts to kick in, knowing that he needed to quickly pull Frank off of whoever was under him. When he finally reached Frank, he shouted a quick, “Get the fuck outta here!” to Mikey, resisting the urge to physically push him away. Ray hesitated for only a second to figure out the rhythm of Frank’s punches, so he would know how to grab Frank without getting hit himself.

Ray turned his face to the side and wrapped his arms around Frank, instantly realizing that pulling him off of this guy now was much more difficult than it would have been two years ago given the weight Frank had put on. He put all the strength he had into his grip on Frank’s torso and the muscles in his legs and lifted, finally pulling Frank away from the fight. Ray could feel that Frank still had a hold of the guy’s shirt, and Frank thrashed as he tried to get Ray to let him go because he wasn’t done beating that motherfucker’s face in.

“Fuck off!” Frank growled, kicking dangerously close to Ray’s kneecaps, “Did you see what he was doing to Mikey?!”

“Yes, dude, and you got him! We’ve got to fucking go before someone hears you. You can’t help Mikey if you’re in jail!” Ray said, trying to reason Frank out of getting arrested.

Frank, still kicking and clawing at Ray where he held him, spat a wad of blood and mucus at the guy he had just been lifted off of, who was now unconscious. Ray could tell that he was breathing, and knew that he’d be concussed beyond all hell, but it was far from his fucking problem.

Ray kept a hold on Frank until they were out of the alley, Gerard and Mikey following close behind. Frank gave up trying to get away once they were back on the sidewalk, where Ray sat him down on his feet.

The three of them heard the sound of chunky liquid splatting against the concrete as Mikey leaned up against the wall and regurgitated his lunch. Frank stood frozen, still too angry to be of any use to anyone, even his boyfriend.

Gerard, desperately trying to avoid his own cookies tossing, dashed towards the street, flagging down a taxi.

The bright yellow car pulled up to the sidewalk and Gerard swung the backdoor open, glaring at Frank.

“In. Now,” he said, the threat of death prominent in his tone.

Frank rode back with Ray, the ride proving to be silent as a graveyard. Frank was secretly glad that the taxi driver hadn’t gotten the idea to ask what happened and why Frank was bleeding all over himself.

When they got back to the hotel they remained outside, under the awning. Frank smoked while the pair of them waited for their respective significant others to arrive. Frank had smoked two whole cigarettes and was lighting his third when Mikey and Gerard finally climbed out the back of a taxi, Gerard glaring daggers into him. Gerard walked right up to Frank and roughly put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in so that Frank was the only one that heard him.

“You’re lucky that he loves you,” Gerard whispered menacingly before walking inside with Ray and leaving Mikey and Frank alone.

“You okay?” Frank asked gruffly, his eyes roaming up and down Mikey’s body to check for injury.

“Fine,” Mikey answered, but Frank could see the way his hand shook when he reached out to take Frank’s cigarette.

“Gerard’s pissed at me,” Frank said after a moment, for lack of anything better to say.

Mikey nodded his head, staring at something off in the distance instead of looking at Frank as he finished off the smoke.

“He’ll settle down in a few hours,” Mikey said finally, tossing the cigarette on the asphalt and snuffing it out with the toe of his boot. “Come on, let’s go inside. Your lip is still bleeding.”

They didn’t speak on the way up to their room, the entire elevator ride up and the walk through the hallway dead quiet except for the low music filtering through unseen speakers and the bustling of hotel employees and other guests.

When they reached the door to their room, Mikey pulled the keycard out of his back pocket and flung the door open, gesturing for Frank to follow him inside. That’s when Frank noticed the tear in Mikey’s shirt, running across his right shoulder blade. It was a pretty small tear, small enough for Mikey not to have noticed it yet, but big enough that Frank could see the broken skin of Mikey’s shoulder, and the rage he’d felt earlier ignited in him all over again. He reached out before he could stop himself, letting his fingertips trace the frayed fabric and irritated flesh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frank asked calmly, evenly, but his body was vibrating with anger and hatred. Mikey jerked his shoulder away.

“I’m fine, Frank,” Mikey snapped, pointing at the bed with a single long finger, “Sit. Don’t move.”

Frank moved to sit obediently on the edge of the bed, knowing that his anger couldn’t compare to that of a Way brother scorned, and waited as Mikey disappeared into the bathroom. When Mikey returned, he was holding a damp washcloth and seemed a little more composed.

“Hold still,” He commanded as he tilted Frank’s face up to the ceiling, “There’s blood all over you.”

Frank winced as Mikey touched the dampened fabric to his lip, the pressure on the split skin sharp and stinging. He involuntarily jerked away from Mikey’s touch, but Mikey held onto his chin firmly.

“Sorry, baby,” Mikey murmured, his voice gentle as he continued to wipe at Frank’s lip and chin.

“S’okay,” Frank muttered, his eyes roving over Mikey’s face in an attempt at distraction.

“This is gonna swell like a bitch,” Mikey said, but Frank barely heard him over the sudden rushing in his ears. He reached up and caught Mikey’s jaw, turning his head to the side.

“What happened to your lip?” Frank demanded, his thumb ghosting over an inflamed, bloodied spot on Mikey’s mouth, “Did that fucker hit you, Mikey?”

“No. When I got lost, I was—I was nervous and I was chewing on it, you know how I do that when I get anxious,” Mikey said quickly. Frank raised his eyebrow and fixed Mikey with a look of utter disbelief. “I promise, Frank. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Not under normal circumstances, no. But to keep me from hunting that motherfucker down and finishing him off? Maybe,” Frank said, but he released Mikey’s face nonetheless. “Are you okay, Mikes? Really?”

“I’m fine,” Mikey repeated for the third time. He didn’t even realize he had drawn his lip between his teeth and started biting on it again until Frank reached up and pulled his lips apart with his thumb.

“Stop it.” Frank commanded slowly, and Mikey held his gaze as he moved his hand to cup Mikey’s face instead. Mikey leaned into the touch and let his fingertips move to trace along Frank’s busted knuckles. Frank was tapping his foot restlessly, which signaled to Mikey that he was holding something back.

“Are _you_ okay?” Mikey asked quietly. Frank looked up at Mikey for a second longer, his gaze hardening, before he dropped his hand and banged his curled up fists against the bed.

“ _Fuck no_ , I’m not okay,” Frank spat, his body shifting on the bed. Frank was always restless when he was pissed. “I should have killed that motherfucker, Mikey. I should have fucking killed him.”

“Frankie—” Mikey started, reaching out to put a hand on Frank’s shoulder, but Frank pulled away from the touch and cut Mikey off with an enraged noise of protest.

“No, don’t ‘Frankie’ me, he was hurting you. He was fucking hurting you, he was touching you, he was—” Frank cut himself off, a sick look coming over his face. “I just can’t believe that stupid fuck touched you, I can’t fucking believe he—what if I hadn’t shown up? That sick _bastard_ , that absolute piece of filth.”

“But you did show up. You found me in time,” Mikey said quietly, reaching towards Frank again. This time, Frank let Mikey settle his hand against the side of his neck, and Mikey curled his fingertips in the hair at the base of Frank’s neck. “You’re right, though. He shouldn’t have touched me. Only you get to touch me.”

Frank snapped his head up, his eyes locking onto Mikey’s instantly. Mikey’s expression hadn’t changed, and nothing about his tone was all that suggestive, but there was something about the words that rubbed Frank that way nonetheless. Mikey stared back at Frank, his jaw giving a small twitch like he had to consciously stop himself from chewing on his lip again.

“Damn right, I’m the only one who gets to touch you,” Frank snarled, his hand encircling Mikey’s free wrist and yanking him into his lap forcefully. Mikey let out a small noise of surprise as he landed in Frank’s lap, unbalanced, but Frank’s hands were there to steady him, latching onto his hips and squeezing before he attacked Mikey’s mouth with his own. He kissed Mikey hard, ignoring the throbbing in his lip as Mikey wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. Frank moved one of his hands to the small of Mikey’s back, sliding the other up to tangle in Mikey’s hair and yank his head back, leaving his neck exposed.

“Fuck,” Mikey hissed as Frank kissed along his jaw before sinking his teeth into a sensitive bit of skin at the top of Mikey’s throat. Mikey groaned, a deep, heavy sound that reverberated against Frank’s mouth. He held Mikey’s head in place as he took his time biting and sucking his way down to Mikey’s collarbones.

“Mine,” Frank said dangerously, his tone daring Mikey to challenge him, to try and say anything different.

“Yours,” Mikey gasped hungrily, his voice coming out breathy and whiny as Frank admired the plethora of marks he’d left in his wake. “Fuck Frankie, _yes,_ god.”

“Good,” Frank said, loosening his grip on Mikey’s hair and pulling him into another kiss. He could feel Mikey’s cock pressing against him, hard and straining against his jeans. Frank slid his hands underneath Mikey’s shirt, fingertips dancing across the heated skin before hooking in the hem of the fabric and yanking it over Mikey’s head, breaking their kiss for only a moment before Mikey’s mouth was on Frank’s again. Mikey was pulling at Frank’s hair, making needy noises at the back of his throat as they made out, and Frank tightened his grip on Mikey’s hips and lifted him off his lap. Frank stood up and flipped them around, practically throwing Mikey down on the bed and watching hungrily as Mikey slid further up the mattress, never breaking eye contact.

“You fucking tease.” An animalistic grin curled up the corners of Frank’s mouth, serving as the bright orange caution sign that Mikey was about to be in for it. He ripped his own shirt off and climbed into the bed after Mikey, firmly planting his hands on either side of his boyfriend’s head and hovering over him as Mikey lay pliant beneath him. “You’d let me do anything I wanted to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Mikey breathed, his voice hitching as Frank’s fingers made quick work of his belt buckle. Frank tugged his pants down a moment later, leaving Mikey in nothing but his underwear.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Frank said, but he spat it out more like an insult than a compliment, like Mikey was causing him physical pain. “I can’t stand it.” Then he was kissing Mikey’s stomach, his hips, biting at his thighs, and purposely ignoring his straining cock. Mikey moaned, the pain sharp where Frank’s teeth dug into his flesh.

Frank grabbed ahold of the waistband of Mikey’s boxers and pulled them down, leaving it to Mikey to kick them off as he sat back on his knees between Mikey’s legs. He brought a hand up to Mikey’s mouth and traced the seam of his lips, holding back a smirk as Mikey’s mouth instantly opened up for him.

“Suck,” Frank commanded, pushing three of his fingers inside Mikey’s waiting mouth, and feeling his cock twitch in his jeans as Mikey closed his lips around them and swirled his tongue around the tips. “ _Fuck_ yeah.”

Mikey held Frank’s gaze the whole time, letting out a whine when Frank suddenly retracted his fingers. Frank smacked Mikey on the thigh with his other hand and said, in a low voice, “Shut up and spread your fucking legs.”

Mikey opened his legs wider and watched as Frank’s hand slipped between them, still pointedly ignoring his throbbing cock, and whimpered as Frank started to work two of his spit slick fingers inside him. It burned and Mikey squirmed uncomfortably, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Fucking bitch,” Frank spat, putting his free hand on Mikey’s lower stomach and holding him down. Mikey moaned, the words sending a flash of heat shooting across his face and shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you?” Frank asked, leaning over Mikey again, his hand still steady against Mikey’s stomach and his fingers working him open roughly.

“Yes,” Mikey moaned, fisting his hands in the sheets as Frank worked a third finger inside him. “Oh, fuck.”

“Does it hurt?” Frank asked, his expression growing dead serious for a second, but the look was gone as quickly as it’d appeared when Mikey shook his head. When Frank pressed against his prostate, Mikey’s entire body jerked and he let out a high pitched moan.

“Fuck, Frankie, right there, oh—” He cut himself off and let out a noise of protest when Frank pulled his fingers out, leaving him empty.

“Can’t have too much fun yet, can we?” Frank asked, and when Mikey opened his mouth to insist that _yes, they could_ , Frank stopped him with a finger against his lips. “Don’t say a goddamn word. And don’t move,” He added as he slipped off the bed and moved to dig through one of his bags.

Mikey threw his head back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling, shoving his hands under his legs, knowing Frank would not take kindly to it if he reached down and started stroking his cock like he really, really wanted to. When Frank returned to the side of the bed a moment later, he made a vague motion with his hand and said, “Roll over.”

Mikey flipped over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his forearms and letting out a yelp of surprise when Frank smacked his ass. He listened as Frank fumbled with his belt and shoved his pants off, and dropped his head down onto his arms when he heard the tiny clicking that a bottle of lube makes when it’s being opened. He felt the bed dip when Frank climbed back onto it, and let out a tiny breath of contentment when Frank settled over him again, his skin hot against Mikey’s back.

“Ready?” Frank asked, and Mikey barely had a chance to nod his head before he felt Frank pressing the tip of his cock against his hole. Mikey moaned as Frank slid inside him, not stopping his motions until his hips were flush against Mikey’s ass. Nothing about the way Frank moved was gentle or loving, but Mikey could feel the affection in the way Frank paused to give him a moment to adjust before sliding back and slamming his hips hard against Mikey’s ass again.

“Fuck,” Mikey whined, his voice getting lost in the rustling of the sheets and the sound of Frank’s sweaty skin slapping against his own. It was good, so fucking good, exactly what Mikey needed to forget what happened. The kind of sex that makes your mind go numb.

“Come on, Frankie,” Mikey moaned, his hands fisting in the sheets again, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

“Yeah? harder?” Frank snapped. His hands moved up to cover Mikey’s on the bed, effectively pinning Mikey down as his hips slammed forward again.

“Oh, fuck, Frankie, shit, please, please, I—” Mikey whimpered, not even sure what he was asking for, but feeling like he needed to keep moving his mouth to maintain some semblance of control over his sanity.

“Do you ever shut up?” Frank whispered, low in Mikey’s ear. Mikey felt himself blush and snapped his mouth closed, letting out a throaty groan when his cock rubbed against the sheets as Frank pressed down against his back.

“That’s more like it,” Frank cooed, “Just moan for me.”

Mikey’s skin felt too hot, like it was going to split open and start oozing lava at any moment. His heart was racing in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears, his body sweaty and sore and tight as Frank fucked him open. There was something comforting about being trapped underneath Frank, about being jammed between the foreign hotel bed and Frank’s familiar weight; something soothing about feeling Frank’s ridiculously calloused hands resting over his, something calming about Frank’s hot breath in his hair and against his ear, about the scent of sex and perspiration that filled the air. It was fucking delicious. It was exactly what they both needed.

“God, you’re so—” Frank groaned, cutting himself off in favor of pressing his lips to Mikey’s bare shoulder and running his tongue over Mikey’s skin, “So fucking—how are you so _good_? Always so goddamn perfect for me without even trying.”

Mikey opened his mouth to respond, but what came out was a choked off, unintelligible sound as Frank switched angles and slammed against his prostate on the next thrust.

“Oh god,” Mikey choked out after a moment as his entire body jerked, “Right there, Frank, fuck, oh god.”

“Yeah? Right there?” Frank taunted, his mouth still moving against Mikey’s shoulder.

“Fuck yeah, please, ah—”

“Who do you belong to, Mikey?” Frank asked roughly. His lips were pressed against the back of Mikey’s neck now, his words coming out hushed against Mikey’s sweaty hair, his grip on Mikey’s hands tightening.

“You, Frank, fuck—I belong to you,” Mikey moaned, the pressure against his prostate and his back and his hands making him feel like his body was going to come unraveled. “I’m all yours, baby, I swear, I’m all fucking yours. Always yours.”

“Goddamn right, you are,” Frank said. He moved one of his hands down to Mikey’s cock, wrapping around it and stroking fast. There wasn’t much rhythm to it, but god, did it feel fucking amazing to Mikey.

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, oh—goddamnit, Frank, take me, fucking take me, I’m yours, ah—” Mikey let out a loud, breathy moan as his orgasm hit him, his entire body going stiff beneath Frank and his ass clenching tight around Frank’s cock as his come spilled hot and sticky over Frank’s fist.

“God _damn_ , Mikeyway,” Frank groaned, his hips knocking against Mikey’s body even harder.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Frankie, god, don’t fucking stop, it hurts so fucking good,” Mikey whimpered.

“Didn’t plan on it,” Frank grinned, licking a long stripe up the back of Mikey’s neck. “You’re mine, remember? Mine. Or did your orgasm make you forget?”

“Fuck yeah, I remember,” Mikey said. His breath was coming out in short, high pitched bursts as Frank fucked into him, the overstimulation making his body twitch and his skin prick in protest.

“Don’t forget it, either,” Frank groaned, his hips losing their rhythm as he drew closer and closer to his own orgasm.

“Come for me, Frankie,” Mikey whimpered. He curled his hands in the sheets for the third time, his fingers flexing under Frank’s hands. “Come inside me, please, fuck, come deep inside my tight little ass—”

“Fucking hell,” Frank moaned, his teeth gritting as his body bent forward and his fingers squeezed Mikey’s in a vicelike grip. He blacked out for a second as he came, hard and heavy and intense. Mikey let out a breathless whimper beneath him. Frank stayed completely still for a while afterwards, his body shaking and his breath coming in short pants, until Mikey made another soft noise of discomfort.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Frank said softly, forcing himself to pull out and roll away from Mikey despite feeling like his bones had turned to jelly. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t. God, you didn’t, I swear—that was just— _fuck_ ,” Mikey said quietly. He was still trying to catch his breath too.

“Yeah,” Frank agreed.

They laid in silence for a few minutes, Frank’s mind still mostly blank and his strength completely depleted. When Mikey rolled over and nestled into his side, head resting on Frank’s shoulder, it took all the energy he could muster to lift his arm and wrap it around Mikey’s back.

“He had a gun, you know,” Mikey said quietly after another minute had passed.

“What?” Frank asked, looking down at the top of Mikey’s head with a furrowed brow.

“The guy. The one who—yeah. He had a gun. He could have killed you.”

“He could have killed _you_ ,” Frank countered. He was too tired to really be angry, though.

“I’m just—I’m glad you showed up when you did. I—I’m sorry, Frankie. The entire time, I just kept thinking, _this is all my fault, this is all my fucking fault_ , and I was so—”

“Stop right the fuck there, Michael James,” Frank interrupted, his hand stroking Mikey’s back gently, “Don’t apologize, and please, for fuck’s sake, don’t blame yourself. Please. It wasn’t your fault.”

Mikey shifted his head and looked up at Frank, his expression open and relaxed despite the seriousness of his words. Frank stared back and the only thing he could think was, _I’m so lucky, I’m so fucking lucky, how did I ever win him over?_

“I love you,” Mikey said before shifting to lay his head against Frank’s shoulder again. “And don’t you dare think about blaming yourself, either. Not for what happened to me, not for the fight—not for anything. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay, got it,” Frank said softly, his eyes slipping closed, “I love you too, by the way.”

“Good. Fucker.”


End file.
